


Reversal

by acerbitas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Marking, Mild Sexual Content, Theon the Great and Baffled, Vague Throbb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acerbitas/pseuds/acerbitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon visits Reek in the dungeons, and gets more than he was expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reversal

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for loveyourcrookedneighbour's Bolton Fic exchange on Tumblr! 
> 
> Prompt: "Lonely after seizing Winterfell, Prince Theon finds some comfort in its dungeons." (marking; shameful enjoyment)
> 
> I dislike this fanfiction. I write a lot of things that I don't like and don't post, but I promised I'd write something so...I hope it doesn't disappoint! :)
> 
> Thank you so much to amethyst_ink for reading over it more than once and offering suggestions and support!

By the time Theon visited Reek in the dungeons, it was evening.  He had trouble controlling miscreants in his army, and he was at a loss of what to do.  He considered public punishment, or maybe reducing their rations.  For several hours he had stewed alone in his room, nursing a cup of wine.  Then he caved.

Theon used Reek for last minute advice, because he knew what he was doing.  He _did_ know, even though sometimes he was jittery.  The jittery feeling faded when he drank wine, or had a woman in his bed.  Lately speaking to Reek made him feel better, too.  Reek validated ideas he had thought were good all along.

Theon adjusted his belt before going down the dungeon steps.  He had had it made special.  It was inlaid with the Greyjoy crest, which was flecked with gold.  He didn’t wear it around his family, but in truth he thought it looked impressive.  In truth, he agonized over whether or not he looked impressive at all.

The dungeon was smelly and cold.  Theon shivered as he walked down the row of cells.  The dank walls were menacing; he wasn’t sure how the prisoners were able to stand it.  He kicked a discarded bone out of his way.  Theon already missed the sea.

When he reached Reek’s cell, Reek was sitting in the center of his room, playing with the dust on the floor.  When Theon came in, he stood up.  The prisoner gave him a bow.

“My Lord,” he said.  Reek’s voice was often sweet, and today it was especially so.

“I came for your opinion,” Theon commanded, hands clutched behind his back.  They were sticky with sweat.

Reek smiled.  “Of course.”

“What do you think of reducing rations for troublemakers?”

“M’lord, I am not an expert on commanding men like you are.  But I think it is a wise idea.”

“Yes, I think so too.”  Theon stood straighter, and smiled a crooked smile.

Reek nodded.  He leaned against the stone walls of his cell, hands in his pocket and head bowed.  But his eyes were watching Theon, and his eyes were cold.  Theon’s hand began to shake.  He clutched it punishingly.

“Do you have any other ideas?” Reek asked.  “I do so admire them.”

Biting his lip, Theon realized he didn’t.  Now he wasn’t sure why he had come down here, and his stomach churned.

“No.  That was all.”

“Do you require anything else?”  Reek raised his eyebrows.

Theon stepped closer to Reek, and Reek stepped backwards.  Hunching his shoulders over, the other man bobbed his head down.

“Have I offended you somehow?”  Reek sounded meek.

Theon grinned at that, but shook his head.

Something was itching in Theon’s groin, and had been for some time.  Maybe he had exaggerated the coldness in Reek’s gaze.  He seemed safe now; he looked pliant and calm.  He looked the way he should be.

Theon thought of Reek kneeling, mouth on his cock.  The Ironborn’s cheeks flushed, and blood rushed to his head.  He could take Reek if he wanted, he told himself.  Reek was a prisoner, and Reek seemed to want him too.  Theon did not stop to question why.

“My Lord?”  Reek’s gaze was on the bulge in Theon’s pants.

Theon was at a loss for words.  Flummoxed, he stumbled over what to say.  Maybe the best thing to do was leave, before he lost any more of his pride.  Being aroused by a woman was different; men always made him think of Robb.  Theon decided it was time to go.

But Reek’s submissive posture was gone.  He looked like a beast waking up from a nap.  He moved towards Theon rapidly, and to his chagrin Theon retreated back to the wall.  Theon’s brow furrowed, and he clenched his fists.  He pressed one of them into the cold stone, half ready to sock Reek in the jaw.

“My Lord Greyjoy,” Reek purred.  He moved into Theon’s space despite the threat of the other man’s fist.  He was so close that they were nearly touching.  Placing his hand on the Ironborn’s chest, he smiled at him like a maid.

“What are you doing?”

“What you want me to do,” Reek responded, and put his hand around the back of Theon’s neck.

Then the prisoner kissed him on the lips.   His oily hair rubbed against the Ironborn’s skin.  Theon’s breath hitched in his throat, and his face burned.  But he kissed him back.

Reek reached for the bulge in Theon’s pants, and rubbed it teasingly.  It grew.  Licking Theon’s neck, Reek continued to stroke him.  Theon leaned his head back against the wall and exhaled sharply.

“Keep going,” he told him.  The more his desire grew, the less aware he became.

Reek complied.  Getting a better handle on Theon’s arousal, he stroked it with one hand.

Theon was hard now, and again he thought of Robb.  Robb had caused a similar itch in him, and when he had been younger, it had been nearly unbearable.  It remained a terrible secret.  If Robb knew, he wouldn’t admire Theon anymore.  Then Theon wouldn’t have any friends at all.

But if Theon shut his eyes, he could always pretend.  Even now, when Robb surely hated him, he could pretend.  Grabbing Reek’s hair, he pushed down, a signal for the other man to get on his knees.

“I want you to suck me,” Theon told him.  He shut his eyes, hands still tangled in Reek’s greasy hair.  It wasn’t at all like Robb’s, but that was bearable.  Reek, in his own way, had virtues.

But Reek didn’t obey.  Instead he bit him on the neck, harder than any woman had dared.  The pain jolted him, and he felt frozen.  Reek took the opportunity to bite him again, and dig ragged fingernails into the wound.  Hot blood dribbled down and soaked into Theon’s collar.

Theon recovered his senses, and pushed Reek off of him.  He made for the door, heart pounding in his chest.  A bite that hard would surely leave a mark, and everyone would know.  They would _know_ he had been down here, _know_ where it had come from, and think less of him.

Reek had just made him feel stupid.  Reek wasn’t supposed to be able to _do_ that.  Theon felt the beginnings of a headache coming on.  Putting his hand to the wound, he rubbed off the blood.

 “Don’t do that again,” he snapped. “And don’t touch me without permission!”  The Ironborn pulled his shirt’s collar up, blushing.  His hands twitched, and his erection was fading.  Theon considered forcing Reek to comply with his wishes, but the thought of it made him feel lightheaded and gross.

“I apologize.”  Reek looked barely apologetic.

“I mean it!” Theon huffed.  “You are _my_ prisoner.”  His voice sounded small though, and he had to fight the urge to hang his head.  Another man had marked him, and unless he was careful, everyone would know.  He couldn’t let them _know_.

Theon was acutely aware of what his father would think of this situation, and it was nothing good.  Maybe he should just leave Reek here, in this smelly, stuffy dungeon, and never come back.  But he liked the praise Reek gave him, and he wanted the advice.

“Of course.  I am at your command.”  Reek’s voice was quiet and subdued.  “I was wrong to assume.”

“You were,” Theon told him.

“But my Lord did enjoy it?”  Reek smiled.

The Ironborn felt mocked.  He didn’t know what to say in response, so instead he glared.

Reek sat down in the center of his cell again.  When he looked up at Theon, it was with acquiescence.

“Well, I have to go,” Theon finally said.  “I have important things to do.”  He tugged his collar up again, thinking of how to disguise the wound until it faded.  He would have to wear his collar high, or add an extra layer of fabric.

“Goodbye, my Lord.”  Reek’s eyes were fixed on where he had bitten him, and he licked his lips.

Unnerved, Theon exited the cell and clanged the door shut behind him. He only noticed his hands were shaking when he pushed the lock closed.  _There._   He didn’t have to come back.  He never had to see Reek again, not if he didn’t want to.

Theon’s insides were crawling anyhow.  Reek’s gaze was still on him from behind the bars.  _What a freak,_ Theon thought, as he hurried away.  He didn’t know why, but he felt the hollow feeling of being used.   He’d felt the same at eight, when his father had given him away.  But Reek was _his_ prisoner, and Theon was in control now.

That feeling of _having control_ made him feel more stable, as if the world wasn’t going to shift sideways at any second and consume him.  When he had been small, he’d feared that the affection Ned Stark showed him would morph unexpectedly.  That both Ned and his father would send him to the execution block.  But Ned couldn’t help it, he had reasoned with himself.  Ned was an honorable man.

 Theon’s head felt fuzzy, and his headache had begun in earnest now.  He stopped to bang his fist on the wall.  All it did was make his hand sting, but he did it again, harder this time.  Grime came off on his hands, and he grimaced.  He shouldn’t have let Reek do that to him.  He pulled his collar up almost cruelly, just in case it wasn’t up enough already.

Theon consoled himself with the thought that it wouldn’t happen again.  


End file.
